


Below Decks is Where We Keep the Augmented Plumbing

by fresne



Series: Voyages of the Bakerstreet [10]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Star Trek, Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, Star Trek: The Next Generation, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Gen, Someone dies, but you just met them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-04
Updated: 2018-08-04
Packaged: 2019-06-21 18:19:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 13,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15563691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fresne/pseuds/fresne
Summary: Before setting off on their new assignment surveying in the Gamma quadrant, the crew of the Bakerstreet take a little leave on Deep Space Nine.Now if only someone could win the pool on when the Commander and Watson will get together.





	1. Martha Hudson POv

Ten minutes into the briefing in Captain Sisko's office on Deep Space Nine, and Martha Hudson was contemplating murder for the good of the Federation, but she didn't technically have orders around that sort of thing any more.

Not that she was contemplating murdering anyone associated with the station, who were doing yeoman's work under difficult circumstances.

No, her murderous impulses were directed at the captains of the two other ships who would be accompanying the Bakerstreet through the wormhole into the Gamma quadrant.

And to think, when they'd gotten the assignment, she'd been pleased that the Bakerstreet would be given such an interesting long term assignment now that their shakedown cruise had completed.

That Captain Enoch Drebber of the USS Belisarius, a Proxima class battleship, a century old battleship,  had kicked her as he pushed past her to sit in the chair with the view of the wormhole had not been a good start. His thoughts were loud and full of images of the symbiont squirming around in the head of Lieutenant Jadzea Dax, the joined Trill, currently taking a far more polite seat on the viewless side of the room. That and the sum of his ambitions to advance after he’d been reassigned from managing a small research station and given ship commander after the Borg attack.              

Then again, Martha wouldn't expect anything less of Dax. She'd met the Dax symbiont when it had been joined with Curzon Dax. He'd been an interesting man, and would, she was sure, be an interesting woman.

The station's chief medical officer, Doctor Julian Bashir, and really it was lovely to meet the model for their medical hologram, was sitting next to Dax, looking around the room like a very bright child, who been told that he might stay in the room with the adults if he stayed quiet.

Then Captain Joseph Stangerson of the USS Al-Haytham, an equally old Oberth class science vessel, had begun to ramble. She knew that after the Borg attack, many retired personnel had been called back into service, but to her mind he might have been best left retired and rambling somewhere else. They endured a long lecure on how as the captain with the greatest seniority, he should carry out the role of fleet commander in this sector with many misquoted regulations.

Captain Sisko, the base commander for Deep Space Nine, leaned back. "Odd, I haven't gotten any messages from Starfleet Command informing of your promotion to Commodore."

Stangerson blinked faded eyes from beneath bristling eyebrows. "I meant on the other side of the wormhole in Gamma quadrant, as we survey on behalf of the Federation."

"You mean establish a foothold for the Federation," said Drebber, getting this very tiring lecturing tone to his voice. "A narrow point of access is no good you don't control both sides. Which let me tell you, a proven battleship with actual firepower is going to be a hell of a lot more use than a science vessel and one of those pissant Pegasus Chimera that command were shitting out to fill out the fleet after the Borg kicked the crap out of it." Because a hundred year old battleship commanded by a former desk jocky was exceedingly impressive.

Martha was briefly glad that Sherlock had not yet bothered to show up to the briefing. As far as she was concerned, it was really for the best that it not be generally known just how many modifications Sherlock had been doing on the Bakerstreet, and really it was lovely the way their new head of Engineering and Sherlock had been getting on like a riot on a Klingon cruiser. So much better than the last head of Engineering.

Hatherley had been handsome enough, but he’d been so worried about his lack of experience running an engineering department, he hadn’t wanted to make decision a micron off recommended spec, which was far too rigid for the Bakerstreet.

As luck would unfortunately have it, Sherlock chose that precise moment to swoop into the meeting. He marched straight up to Captain Sisko's desk, leaned across it with his hands firmly planted on the surface, and asked, "Will we have an opportunity to study the wormhole aliens themselves as we go through the wormhole?"

As if they hadn't discussed not asking that question.

Sisko, who was an officer and gentleman, smiled broadly, "You'll have plenty of opportunities for exploration in the Gamma quadrant, but the wormhole aliens have decided they'll only talk to me."

"The Prophets," said Major Kira, Sisko's first officer, speaking for the first time during the meeting, "will only speak with the Emissary, Captain Sisko."

Both Drebber and Stangerson shared a glance, which it didn't take a psychic was getting on Kira's very thin nerves.

Then opting to injecting anti-matter into an uncontrolled situation, Stangerson old-man loudly whispered to Drebber, "Not sure how comfortable I am with a former terrorist, a religious zealot, serving with Federation command staff."

Perhaps Martha shouldn't have said, "Captain Stangerson, I had no idea that while you were retired, you became pro-Cardassian. We call them freedom fighters when it's the side we support. They're terrorists when we don't give them weapons."

But it really was worth it to see Kira stand up as if she might solve Martha's murder problem. "What did he say?"

Dax smiled brightly. "I'm sure it's nothing we need to be concerned with while we're all still getting to know each other."

Sisko cleared his throat. "The reason I called this meeting is since you'll be coming back and forth to Deep Space Nine while reporting back on progress surveying routes for space traffic and getting supplies for bases in the Gamma quadrant, I wanted to set things off on the right foot."

"Too late," muttered Kira.

Sherlock, the dear, fell into a chair and groaned. "Dull."

Stangerson said sharply. "Then you haven't read the briefing. Two merchant ships have failed to make their expected return date in the last six months." Stangerson sat up straighter, "The Callypso was registered out of the Federation. There are Federation citizens lost in the Gamma quadrant. Someones grandchildren."

"And the second ship was Ferengi, who we don't want getting their filthy little fingers dug in on the other side," said Drebber. "Sooner we get a base established, better off we'll be."

Really, Martha had to wonder if Starfleet was serious about establishing a presence in the Gamma quadrant if these were the personnel they assigned. Of course, even nearly two years after the Borg, personnel were a tight resource. Expanding to an entirely different quadrant might be more a matter of wishing to ensure no one else did than an actual Starfleet objective.

Sherlock, loosely sprawled in his chair, eyes closed, hands clutching the top of his head, was the very image of one of the maidens from the dramas Martha had enjoyed as a child. "Captain Sisko, is there any chance I could spend some time with the shapeshifter running your station security while I'm here?" Then reversing course on ennui, he leapt up and paced around the office. "He's the only known member of his species. Imagine, a sentient being capable of existing in vacuum. Consuming light energy for sustenance. Capable of assuming any shape."

"Odo doesn't like to prodded by scientists. He went through enough of that," said Kira sharply.

Sherlock was about to explode a protest when Dax cut him off. "In my experience, any time crew spends time on a station for shore leave, eventually someone ends up in the brig.” She winked at Sherlock. “I’m sure you'll meet him soon enough."

Sherlock grinned. "That is true. And on a station this size and with this much traffic, there's more reason than most."

He edged towards the door. "Was there some additional reason we were asked to meet before going to explore a completely new quadrant?"

Sisko spread his hands. "This will be your home base for the foreseeable future. A good as time as any to get to know each other." He smiled suddenly. "You're invited to eat with my son and a few of the command staff in my quarters at eighteen hundred hours. Purely informal dress. No uniforms. Bring your appetites."

Sherlock sniffed the air and tilted his head. Martha had an impression of a grand door way opening and closing and something to do with a waterfall. "You cook as a hobby. A craft you learned from a parental figure who is in that trade professionally. You own handmade wooden cooking equipment and a black cast iron pot that you cast yourself. You specialize in food from Earth. But, you've been experimenting with Bajoran cuisine since being stationed here. You're fond of cooking what our ship's doctor would refer to as the… nasty bits." He would keep referring to John as a doctor and mentioning him every conversation.

Kira shot a look at Stangerson. "We could have used Commander Holmes in... the Resistance."

"My presence would have reduced the time it took to drive out the Cardassians. Especially, given the additional resources that would have refused to sod off," said Sherlock without a trace of humility. Really, it was as if he’d been napping when they’d been handing it out. It he wasn’t such a dear, Martha might have found him annoying. As it was, he was like the son she‘d never had.                                                                  

Like a good mother, Martha couldn't help but take an itty bitty peek, but like always, Sherlock's thoughts were shielded in metaphor. Also, a very firm door on that memory palace of his.

Drebber scoffed, "And there we have it. Augment arrogance at its finest. Is that the reason you got Ambassador West killed? Course, it's the brasses' own fault. Sending one of you Augments on a mission like that."

Martha exchanged a glance with Sherlock, and the dear smiled at her fondly.

In the corner of the room, Bashir stiffened, and Sisko's smile slipped away.

Drebber ignored the signs, because some people could simply not read a room. "What is they say about Augments, 'Superior abilities breeds superior arrogance.' Not sure why, given all the animal DNA."

It was as if Drebber didn't see the African art and other indications of Sisko's significant interest in the African Diaspora. A dark period in Human history when Humans had decided an entire continent was less than Human based on phenotypes. 

Sisko said firmly, more than a touch of iron in his tone, "I'll thank you not to repeat that kind of statement on my station." Sisko's voice rose into the sort of rolling oratory that Martha associated with a religious leader. "When one group wants to oppress another, that is the first step. Referring to that group as animals, insects, less than sentient." Every syllable fell a round rolling rock. Echoing around the small office. By now, Sisko was on his feet. Only stopped from moving by the relative crowdedness of the room. "The two-third's compromise. Slavery itself. The history of medical testing on Humans has never been about anything other than the arrogance of the ones doing the testing."

"I'm hardly responsible for..." protested Drebber bristling.

"You are responsible for attitudes becoming a Starfleet officer. By remembering that when," and here Sisko leaned over his desk, his wide hands lightly spread over its surface, "the Apartheid South African government engineered their super soldiers, they started with subjects that they already considered less than Human. When the United States of America experimented on Humans, they started with the Tuskegee airmen. With people stripped of their rights in the internment camps of Cold Mountain. With deciding that people are animals." He sat back down with a fierce smile. "Perhaps we've gotten to know each other adequately after all."

Martha leaned over. "DS9’s Chief Medical Officer," she moved her chin in doctor Bashir's direction, "is an Augment. Hope you don't need extra medical attention."

Drebber stood at stiff attention. "Our medical staff is excellent."

"Our ship's doctor also cooks," said Sherlock sailing on his own conversational track. The dear really did not care when people questioned his peoplehood. He didn't care one bit. It was if the idea that other people's opinions had anything to do with him just had never occurred to him. That opinions that could wreck or build a career – or for that matter relationships – wasn't even a thought in his sensor range.

Then again, he followed this statement with the fairly predictable, "Doctor Watson would enjoy discussing cooking. I'll bring him. I'm never hungry, but you and he can discuss your common obsession with real cooking. He'll probably insist on bringing something he made. He's a very good cook."

Sisko leaned back. The sort of startled smile that Martha expected from the best people when exposed to her Sherlock, "Then I will expect you and your doctor at eighteen hundred hours." His gaze did a drag around the rest of the room. "Dismissed."

Drebber and Stangerson left. Martha accidentally kicked Drebber on his way past. Sherlock, of course, leapt out of the room as soon as Sisko agreed he could show John off.

"How did he know that I have a cast iron pot?" Sisko turned to Dax. "Old man, do you think it was pops talking about me at the restaurant? But that was a lot of detail."

Dax shrugged, "Augments do have a greater sense of smell than average humans, but… he wasn't wrong about any of that. Martha?" She looked over at Martha.

"He's very clever, our Commander," said Martha. "Not always the best one for talking to people, or understanding his own emotions."

Dax grinned. "I've heard."

"What? What happened?" asked Bashir.

"Your ears are too delicate," said Dax, and Bashir – who really was very different from their medical hologram all told – snorted.

Martha took her leave and hoped nothing blew up when she was off duty.

The Gamma quadrant was large. Perhaps the Bakerstreet would be able to go in the opposite direction from the imbeciles on the other two ships. Somehow, she doubted it.


	2. Khatri POV

Khatri watched Commander Holmes follow John shop from across the Deep Space Nine Promenade. At first she'd been worried that the cloaked figure following John was some sort of Augment slaver, like the more hysterical newsfeeds and some of her more excitable students back in the day went on about. But then she realized it was just Commander Holmes.

John would stop and look at a piece of fruit.

Holmes would stop and turn away.

John would buy his fruit – she hoped for something he was planning on sharing at the next Aug Soc – and head to the spice shop next door.

Holmes would move forward to examine Moon fruit from Risa.

It was reasonably entertaining and since she'd already more than adequately tenderized her feet and associated varicose veins walking around the Promenade, Khatri drank her mango lassi. Mentally composed a message for her grandson, who would insist on worrying about her. He did not seem to understand that she was done carrying a panic device in case she was harassed by a normal Human upon the street. She was done assessing the motives of every alpha or Normal before considering the safety of being alone in their company.

Such fears had done nothing but confine her. 

Such fears had not kept her daughter safe.

The confine of her fears had not kept her home from being destroyed from falling debris during the Borg attack. A home full as it had been with so many precious things associated with so many memories. The memories remained with even more memories added to their store.

Never would she have expected at this point in her life to have experienced the events of their shakedown cruise. Not that she had passed those details on to her grandson. He was too tender in years, and as yet unmarried.

John turned around, which had Holmes very amusingly turn and take up a great interest in a tomato plant. No sooner did John turn around again, but Holmes turned his cloak inside out and rearranged its folds.

Holmes became entranced by a trader crossing the Promenade. He threw aside all disguise, gripped John's wrist, and said something that she could not hear. Within moments they were dashing up the stairs to the upper level and out of view. 

Which was all very well.

With them gone, she could focus on all the other lifeforms walking and moving about the Promenade, which had its own quiet pleasure.


	3. Lucy Hebron

Lucy knew it was irrational. She knew it. She'd left Eva with various crewmembers plenty of times. But her trip to the twenty-first century has been terrifying.

Like a lot of Augments, she'd entertained the odd fantasy of traveling back in time to shoot Colonel Green. Generally while making an amazing speech about Augment rights. Something between "If you prick me, do I not bleed?" and "Die you racist ass!"

Which come to think of it had been part of a student production of _The Merchant Venice on a Mid-Summer Night's Dream_ in her second year at the academy at the academy.

When time travel had actually happened, she'd gone to her quarters, held Eva and promised her baby that they'd steal a shuttle and head for Vulcan before setting foot on Earth. It had her begging for forgiveness from Eva for risking her life on a starship.

Eva had only noticed that her mother was upset. Wailed and wanted comforting.

Now Lucy was standing on a space station and wondered if Eva was any safer in the future. The station had its battle scars. What had been taken from the Cardassians could be retaken. Then there was the wormhole, which she was about to willingly go through. With her baby.

All she had to do was tell her grandmother about Eva, accept her scolding, and she could send Eva back to Earth's relative safety where she would grow up not remembering her mama's scent. Her face.

Which was what Mama had done with her. Except she wasn't her Mama.

None of which got at the more immediate choice. To drop Eva off in daycare or not.

Lucy told herself that she could look at the daycare center and see how she felt. 

When she got there, Lucy was shocked to see Dr. Keiko Ishikawa was running the facility.

Lucy said, "Dr. Ishikawa, I'm sure you don't remember me. I attended a lecture of yours on improving soil health in agroecologies exposed to toxic chemicals at Mandela University in South Africa. You're why I got into botany." She looked around. There were all sorts of rare plants growing from the walls, which was only what she'd expect from a botanist of Dr. Ishikawa's stature. "I thought you were working as the head of botany on the Enterprise." A plum position for a leader in her field.

"It's Mrs. O'Brian now." Dr. Ishikawa – Dr. O'Brian – smiled ruefully, as if her marriage somehow invalidated her other achievements. "My husband was transferred to Deep Space Nine, which was fine when the station was over Bajor, plenty of work to be done there given what the Cardasians did to the planet. But when we discovered the wormhole, we had to move the station here. There's," she took a deep breath, "not much use for a botanist on a space station, and what with my daughter, Molly, still being so young, and there were so many children on the station with nothing to do, I thought I'd open a school and daycare center to give them some structure."

This made no sense to Lucy. Actually, it made a lot a lot of sense, she just didn't like that it made sense.

She smiled at a woman with twice her credentials. "If you don't mind, I'll help with some of the classes and we can talk. I'm the only botanist on the Bakerstreet and it would be lovely to talk to someone in my specialty." She cradled tapped the stroller where Eva was fast asleep. "This one doesn't have many opinions on the subject.

Keiko had some Bajoran support staff, who watched the infants. Eva wasn't even the youngest.

Lucy helped Keiko with her classroom. Acted as guest lecturer. Although, she ended up explaining more about biology than she would have expected. There were several teens in class, including and this was a surprise, her second cousin once removed, Jake Sisko, Jennifer Sisko's son. Out here, far from Earth, near a world that had spent fifty years under an oppressive occupation with all the destabilization that came from that, and she thought, "If his father brought Jake here, then maybe this will work."

She was saved from going into too much detail about Augments when Commander Holmes ran into the classroom, demanded to know if they had heard an intermittent hissing from the back left ventilation panel, which the Ferengi teen had.

After Holmes had gotten the Ferengi to imitate the sound and the pattern of frequency, he and John had abruptly left.

Class was not very productive after that.

After class, Keiko said, "So, that was Commander Holmes. If you don't mind my asking, what's he like? I've heard all sorts of rumors."

Lucy's immediate urge was to bridle at Normal sterotypes of Augments, but had to admit that Holmes was in a class by himself. She said, very carefully, "You may have noticed that Eva is less than ten and yet I am serving on a starship not rated for children."

Keiko nodded, understanding blooming in her expression.

Lucy kept going. "He's intimidating, irritable, but if you can do the job, then it's fine. It's more than fine. He's not just mentoring me, he's actively doing things to push me. Promote my skills. In fact," she looked away, mustering her courage, "maybe the next time we're through, I'll borrow a shuttlepod. We can leave Eva and Molly here. Take some soil and plant samples on Bajor for you to analyze. Not that what you're doing here isn't great work." She finished quickly.

"But I wasn't exactly trained to teach primary and secondary school," said Keiko. "It isn't what I set out to do with my life. Or even what I want to do."

With that, they got to seriously discussing what sites would be the best to visit with a few pauses when Eva woke from her nap and wanted her mother.

Lucy ended up staying for dinner at Keiko's. They fed the kids and chatted. Continued with their plans.

Her husband, Miles, came in apologetic and late. "Sorry, I lost track of the time."

Keiko smiled and said, "You have no idea how good it feels not to have noticed."

With the children all bunked up, they replicated dinner with wine and talked like adults about building families in unexpected places.


	4. Khel POV

Khel examined the architecture of DS9 happily. It was new architecture for one thing. Not that she hadn't taken advantage of Commander Holmes' lax ideas about away missions to examine the architecture of some of the worlds they'd visited, but all too often the Bakerstreet's missions involved surveying space. Khel was an architect. Although, Humans liked to joke that for an Andorian that meant interior design.

She'd trained to design living spaces for families.

Within her, their newest offspring in gestation struck at a kidney. She contemplated that she was a living space for their family. The twins slept in the cloth slings upon the chests of her bondmates, Ishros and Shroleb. It was important in this phase of their development that each of them carry the children so that they would know their scents for later family bond recognition. She shared no genetics with her children, but the ones that they passed back to her through the placental barrier. But they were hers. As sure as her heart and blood.

It was difficult to remember that she hadn't wanted to come on the Bakerstreet. Had worked hard in her apprenticeship designing homes in the capital on Andor. She had given up on the idea of children. Shroleb had been the one to work with matchmaker after matchmaker trying to find an unbonded shen, who might wish for three bondmates aging out of fertility. Repeating over and over, " _With the bond we are whole, without the bond we are nothing."_

When they'd found a shen a year from assignment in Starfleet, Kehl had respectfully requested that Bihr be given an assignment to the base on Andor for the duration of their fertile years. The Borg made that impossible.

Starfleet's concession was to allow Bihr's bondmates to join her on the Bakerstreet.

At the time, she had wondered if she had made a mistake in bonding with Bihr. It would have been different if Eshess has lived. They'd been promised since they were children. An excellent match with a high probability of a viable child as certified by the Genetics Counsel. A path cut short by the accident that took Eshess' life in her late teens.

Instead of an inevitable future on Andor, certified and settled, they'd been cut loose without their fourth. Desperate enough to put their lives on hold, and board a ship with the only shen willing to take them. No genetic certification. No set path. Little hope that they would play a part in the preservation of their species.

That had been then.

Instead of being given small assignments, always looking to the honor of the architect under whom she'd apprenticed, Khel had been given free range with her imagination the Bakerstreet. She'd redesigned any number of the common areas for comfort. Commander Holmes had insisted that the command chair be replaced with a command couch. It was common knowledge aboard ship he'd done so to warm his bare feet beneath the buttocks of Lieutenant Watson when the hours of the watch stretched long. 

This did not appear to be a common Human custom, but there was general agreement that Commander Holmes was not common.

She looked at her family and thought, "This is the future of Andor." Two children. Two more on the way. Going into the Gamma quadrant. Unknown. Unknowable. Unsafe. She laid her hand upon the pouch where their children gestated and promised to do her best to make the place where they lived one of comfort.

Andor had not been safe for Eshess. Living on a colony world had not been safe for the bondmates selected for Bihr. They'd been murdered when a plague destroyed all the supplies on Camus II. Bihr had never said if it they had died in the food riots or what came after when Kodos the Executioner murdered half the colony so that the other half might survive.

One hand resting on her distending pouch, she reached out with the other to take Bihr's hand. They walked in silence for a time, taking in the architecture.

Bihr said, very quietly, "I heard back from the head of engineering for DS9, Chief O'Brien. He liked what he saw of your work on the Bakerstreet."

"And?" Khel's heart beat faster. Her antennae twitched at the functional architecture around them. Built to refine ore. Built to house a workforce of Bajoran slaves. Now in the controls of those Bajorans, who sought a new beginning, but with little experience in the design of internalized spaces such as this.

Which was why a few hours later she was sitting in O'Brien's office discussing ways to bring comfort to a former ore refinery when Holmes burst in, wanting to know where the ductwork in the school led to. Khel handed him the pad she'd been examining. "I was about to suggest that this should be one of the first items in the redesign. These air ducts connect with areas of the station where toxic materials were processed."

O'Brian's eyes widened. "But my daughter, my wife, all the children are in the school all day. It's a school."

"Not the immediate problem," said Commander Holmes taking her pad with a shout, "Watson, the game is a foot."

"Follow your spirit, and upon this charge. Cry 'God for Harry, England" said Watson, somewhat enigmatically.

Khel squeezed Birh's hand in thanks for this adventure that she was on. Then she went back to her passion, the design of comfortable living spaces.


	5. Ji-Yoo Cho

Ji-Yoo got off the Bakerstreet. Took for herself a deep lungful of space station air. Every station had its own smell. DS9 no different. Lower on oxygen mix. More Sulphur, because Cardassians plus refining processes, but also Cardassians.

Nothing that was going to make a mod-one, mark-one human think they'd gone to a hell place, but enough to notice for a nose that was working. No idea how the place smelled to an Augment. Maybe it smelled good. Augments seemed to find heat stink a yum, yum smell and not at all like ass.

Station where she'd grown had gone in for star blooming jasmine. Covered some short cuts station support staff were doing, which led to a massive corruption scandal when Ji-Yoo was handle high to an air lock. She'd been glued to the reports.

Why, when the opportunity had come to join Starfleet, she'd jumped on Security like a space walker jumps on a landing hatch.

Now most visitors to DS9 probably-like went to Promenade. Good for them. But Ji-Yoo wanted for the ore refinery facility. She climbed through the bowels of the station and took selfies with various pieces of equipment for her collection. She'd visited over fifty-five types of stations and had a good following among station hoppers. Once the relay station got set and running in the Gamma, she'd have fifty-six. Nothing in a secure zone, of course, but the station itself. She'd selfie that.

She was checking here photo for quality, when she reconned that Commander Holmes had photobombed her picture hopping around on top of the processing array. "Uh, sir, what are you looking for?"

"She wants to know what I'm looking for, Watson."

Watson shrugged at her. "I have no idea what he's looking for."

"Because neither of you," said Holmes, reaching into the array in a way that Ji-Yoo was not right sure she'd want to do and pulled out a small package.

The tricorder in Watson's hands beeped.

Holmes jumped off the array, which wasn't no small jump, but he for sure didn't notice, and off he went on a run. Watson going after.

Ji-Yoo spent too long weighing if she should follow or keep taking pictures of the facility.

She cursed herself for being too slow to get on the bottom deck of something crazy interesting, but life on the Bakerstreet meant that the love birds would peck up something else crazy fun soon enough.


	6. Shroleb POV

Shroleb was a traitor to the Andorian species. He wanted a nap. He needed a nap. He was stopped for the third time walking about the station by yet another wail from his son, Thil. There were three options. A desire for food. A need to have a diaper changed. An existential angst that could only be expressed in a wail at the universe.

It was the second item. Shroleb stopped by an airlock, placed Thil on a convenient flat surface and changed yet another set of soiled diapers and did not feel the deep abiding love that he'd been informed he would feel in this moment. What he felt was he would do anything for a full night's sleep. There were four adults. They should be able to do better at managing two infants.

He reminded himself that he could get a full night's sleep if he were willing to sleep in one of the spare cabins on the ship. He would be sleeping alone. He had tried it once, and had woken once an hour with fitful dreams about his children.

They were going to have two more infants within a year.

The children would be in equal numbers to the adults. They would overrun the universe. He blearily looked out the window.

Commander Holmes asked, "Did you observe a Human with a space suit come past here?"

Shroleb said, "I am so tired I would not observe a herd of Wkoda beasts."

Commander Holmes said a number of things, but Shroleb ignored them. Thil had opened his eyes and blew a bubble of spit.

It was the most brilliant thing Shroleb had ever seen.


	7. Freddy Washington POV

On leave in a deep space station. Deep, deep, space. Out on the frontier. Out on the edge of what folks had explored. About to fall off the edge. Place full of sentient folks from all over. Lot further than a kid from his part of the world generally got. Hell, lots of folks on Earth never went further than a trip to Mars.

But Freddy had itchy feet. This was the frontier and the final one and Freddy was going into it. Thrusting his way through the space ways… and fine, that had gotten a little raunchier than he'd been going for. Apologies to his grammy.

He got a map from this merchant on the Promenade for the best places to see the wormhole, but then this Ferengi standing in the door for a swank looking bar said, "Hey kid, that's a scam."

Freddy laughed in his face. He wasn't some kid fresh off the farm. He'd been in space for nearly two years, plus the three months training. He'd seen things. Strange and wonderful.

He was a father.

A daddy with a gorgeous little girl.

He was in Starfleet Security. He was not a fool.

He put all the scorn from all that experience in his voice. "Right. A Ferengi wants to tell me something's a scam."

"Who better to know a scam than a scam artist?"

That made a kind of sense to Freddy.

"Yeah, okay, fine. Then where is the best place to see the wormhole?"

"You're standing in it. The Promenade has a great view." The Ferengi leaned closer. "Problem isn't knowing where to sit. It's when. The Merchant's Association, of which I am the President and the owner of the establishment behind me, doesn't have access to the schedule, blocking us from profits. But," he tapped Freddy's chest. "I notice that you are a member of Security. Therefore you would have access to that schedule. And if you were to provide me with just a glimpse of it, as the Quark behind Quark's, I would be willing to let you in on say a strip of gold pressed latinum."

There wasn't exactly anything wrong with sharing a traffic schedule. It weren't exactly regulation neither. Freddy felt a buzz in his veins. This was life on the frontier. Bargaining with beings from another world. Living on the edge. Experiencing things. "Two strips every time I give you access." At least a strip would go to getting Eva something real and nice.

"You are a hard bargainer," said Quark. "Likely to bankrupt me, but I like you kid, I really do. So I'll accept your counter offer." They shook on it. 

It wasn't hard to get the schedule. It only took basic clearance, and Freddy was soon perched at a table in Quark's with a beer and a view of the wormhole when it put on a show.

Maybe when the waitress came to bring him a refill, he shouldn't have said, "Isn't it amazing living out here on the frontier? Anything could happen."

Then she might not have thrown the beer in his face. "How exactly is my home the frontier? Bajor had space travel before Earthers managed their first rocket." She stomped off leaving him dripping in beer.

"And that's what I get for hiring former freedom fighters," said Quark. He looked at Freddy. "You still have to pay for that beer though. And a towel."

Freddy was drying himself off and getting a new order of beer, when Commander Holmes and Doc Watson came in. They examined every table.

As they came to Freddy's table, Commander Holmes shouted, "Washington!"

Freddy stood to attention and saluted, which made no sense, but the Commander made him nervous. More nervous than Hudson really. She was a Betazed. But she had scruples and stuff about reading his mind. But Holmes, he was stone cold scary about what he could tell about a fella.

He even knew that Freddy had been sold a map of the station. He told him that he was an idiot for buying something he could download for free. But he also knew about Freddy's deal with Quark, which… Freddy asked, "Sir, were you listening in on my com?"

Holmes tapped the side of Freddy's beer, which was a little nicer than he might have gone for, but it was made with real Bajoran wheat and guaranteed to be fresh, and he'd wanted to celebrate the view.

As Holmes and the Doc left, he called after them, "Sorry about the beer, sir."

Then he went back to watching the whistle stop traffic wail through the wormhole.


	8. Violet Hunter POV

Violet's shift was off sync with Vi's. It happened. Vi had already managed to visit and come back by the time, Violet was ready for her leave.

The way Vi was going on, Violet half expected to see Risa when she left the docks on DS9. 

What she saw was an ugly Cardassian designed station with a promenade containing a few shops and a hint of Sulphur smell.

"Give it a chance," said Vi, who was insisting on being Violet's tour guide. Violet wasn't sure what she'd done to deserve being dragged first to a medbay and then to a Ferengi bar and casino.

Violet said, "Vi, I see a bar and some Dabo tables. Same as plenty of ports." She looked over the menu. "Overpriced Ferengi liquor when there is perfectly good replicated stuff back on the ship."

Vi giggled nervously. "Maybe you should go to the bar."

That's when Violet saw him. Julian. Not in a holodeck. Not on the Bakerstreet.

For a moment, a brief moment her heart squeezed. Thought that somehow, someone had done, something. She looked around. No holo emitters. She walked up to where he was sitting and just stared at him. "Julian? Is that you?"

Julian turned and smiled at her. "It is, but I'm afraid you have the advantage of me." His smile was broad and white and he said a very unJulian thing. "Not that I mind being taken advantage of by beautiful women. In fact, it's my very favorite thing."

Violet looked at Vi, uncertain of what was going on. Vi grinned and said, "He's the real Doctor Julian Bashir. I spotted him earlier and I've been dying for you to meet him." She raised her eyebrows. "He's a real boy."

Violet suddenly felt cold. Tingling pins from her scalp to her toes. Vi had been trying to convince Violet that maybe she should spend less time with Julian for the last few months, which wasn't anything that Violet wasn't telling herself. It was just, Julian got her in a way no 'real boy' ever had. Especially since there had been some sort of upgrade a few months back and he'd started, asking questions. Engaging in conversations.

"I… yes, I am a real boy," said Lieutenant Bashir, who she had looked up after she'd first met Julian. She'd forgotten he was stationed on DS9. "Oh, I see… when you say the real the real doctor Julian Bashir, you mean… I know for the few months after the Borg invasion a number of ships were relying very heavily on the emergency holograms while the fleet staffed up with more doctors, but… are you still running your emergency program?"

"We're on the Bakerstreet," said Vi. "We're using the emergency program to train our doctor. He's got, I think, one more year of medical school left before he's a…" she rolled her eyes, "real doctor."

"Oh," said Doctor Bashir, his eyes widening in enlightenment. "That explains a lot of things."

Vi crossed her arms. "What is that supposed to mean?" Vi tended to get a little defensive about their ship, which she insisted had not been rushed out of the docks at Utopia Planetia, which was the common scuttlebutt.

"I meant that… well, there are…" Doctor Bashir turned to an older Human in engineering yellow with the insignia of a Chief Petty Officer sitting next to him. "O'Brian, help me out."

"What the Lieutenant means," said O'Brian in a soft Irish brogue, "is that your ship and your Commander have a bit of a reputation given the way some of your missions have gone. However big the fleet is, you need to think of it as a small village full of a lot of very bored people stuck together for long periods of time with not much to do but talk about each other." O'Brian made flying gesture with one hand. "Word travels faster than warp."

Vi looked mollified by that remark, but the shore leave had gone sour for Violet. She said, "I think, I'll skip the drink, if you don't mind, Vi." She left Quark's, but had really no place to go.

Wandered for a bit. Shopping wasn’t really her thing. Hudson had been trying to get everyone to try some sort of tailor friend of hers on DS9, but Violet liked replicated clothes just fine.

Holmes and Watson bowled past her as she was standing in front of the tailors. Holmes shouted something about "Minecrafts," or "Mine crofts." Or "Nine crofts." She wasn't sure. He ran out past. So, whatever it was, there wasn't much to see in there.

She ended up right back on the Bakerstreet.

Julian winked on as she came into sickbay. "Violet. I wasn't expecting you back from shore leave at least until seventeen hundred hours."

She shrugged. "There wasn't anything there for me." It was true. Sad, but true. "I was wondering if you wanted to go hiking on Bajor with me. I… um… uploaded a new program once we got word we were coming here."

Julian looked around at the empty sickbay. "Most of the crew are on leave, and even John is playing hooky, so," he smiled that same smile she'd seen only a few hours earlier, but somehow this was the real smile, "I am all yours."

As they hiked, holo sun warm on their faces, they discussed other locations Violet should add to the holodeck's set of experiences for them to share.

Really, she couldn't have imagined a better day on leave.


	9. Bailey POV

It was perhaps a silly expenditure of social credits, given he lived on a starship, but Bailey had years of them built up from their years of service in Starfleet.

At least unlike most visitors on the Spacewalk tour that some enterprising vendor on the Promenade had set up, Bailey knew how to put on the space suit.

Their tour guide was a Ferengi. No surprise. Perhaps racist of Bailey, but there it was.

They were more than a bit surprised to see Commander Holmes and John join the tour. It didn't really seem their speed. Pelting wildly down a hallway towards a fire. Running down to the engineer room when there were klaxons going. Running in front of a mind controlled crowd to hack into the interface for an artificial intelligence running their world. 

That had been a whole pile of not fun. Two months into his treatments to shift their gender. Hormones feeling more out of control than they had since their teens. Body shifting. Changing. Which again, like when they were a teen. Higher aggression and responses than... they weren't like that and John knew that.

Still Commander Holmes glared at Bailey during the obligatory "Do this or you'll die training," and stood between Bailey and John, who rolled his eyes at Holmes.

It wasn't any great surprise to Bailey that two minutes out the airlock and there were no signs of Commander Holmes and John. A little less expected one of the tour guides took off too.

Why exactly they were all near the hatch releasing refuse into space, Baily really didn't care.

They were taking this walk because it was their first spacewalk as an alpha. Bailey had a list of firsts since the treatments had finished.

This was just one of them. Looking into the void. Having the void look back. Being the person they were always meant to be.


	10. Owen Tregennis POV

Owen was on a station with a promenade and he was going to get some nice togs and have a go around.

He was just putting his clothing back on after getting his final fitting at the tailors – Deep Space Nine had a real honest to God tailor – when Holmes rushed into the room, shouted, "I know you're here Mycroft and you can sod off," and rushed back out again.

Then came the moment of silence that generally came after a visit from Holmes.

"Who, or rather… What splendid specimen of masculine pulchritude was that?" asked Mr. Garak.

Which fair enough, that had been Owen's first, second, and third reactions to Holmes too.

"That was Commander Holmes, the captain of the Bakerstreet and my commanding officer." Owen shot Mr. Garak a side look, cause fair was fair, and a well-dressed man did things to his private officers. "He's completely tits over heels for the ship's doctor, but he never makes a move unless we're high on space pollen or whatnot. The two of them have the emotional maturity of," he looked around the room, "that measuring tape over there."

Mr. Garak held up the tape and let the bottom end drop and roll on the floor. "So, four meters of emotional maturity."

Owen groaned. "Fine, my left shoe. The betting pool on when they'll get together has had to start over five times now." He had a sudden thought and snapped his fingers. He commed John, "John, sorry to interrupt your leave, but I thought I'd let you know the station has a real tailor."

"Really?" came the reply, because John had taste. "Where? Sherlock ditched me to climb around in some garbage, so I've got some time back on my hands. " Owen tastefully didn't comment how often Commander Holmes was Sherlock when John talked about him, because Owen was tasty like that.

Owen gave him directions. As soon as the connection was closed, Owen said, "Mr. Garak, if you could put John in something really amazing, maybe someone can finally win the pool and engineering can catch a break on all the improvements the commander wants to make on the ship." Not that the new head of engineering, Lieutenant Yao, wasn't game for every one of them.

Mr. Garak winked at him. "I'll see what I can do." Mr. Garak folded up the tape measure. "I'm from a long line of imperial tailors."

Which since Cardassia didn't have an emperor, Owen wasn't quite sure what to make of that.

Shopping completed, he found himself where every engineer since the dawn of time found themselves while on leave. At the space port bar at a table with other engineers. Good enough spot until the nightclub down the way opened up for a spot of dancing.

O'Brian excused himself early. "Great talking to you, but I've dinner with the family. Keiko would kill me if I showed up with three strangers unannounced. It's bad enough when I bring Julian home when the Tailor is too busy to for him."

"No problem," said Mr. Hope from the Al-Haytham. 

Mr. Dbrovnikoff from the Bellisarius grunted into his drink. A deadly looking thing that looked like black tar. Owen was happy to keep to his pint of ale.

Of course, that's when the conversation shifted from the terrors of maintaining the station, with all the jokes associated with inserting Federation multi-prong dongles into loose Cardassian slots, to their own ships. 

Hope started by going on about the upgrade the Al-Haytham had gotten at the Copernicus Shipyards. Dbrovnikoff not to be topped had talked about an engine upgrade they'd gotten straight out of Luna Station.

Owen didn't see how either of their old ships was anything compared to the Bakerstreet. "She's only a year or so off the line. Enough time to get her kinks out, engineers who love on her to get her tuned up, put in improvements with love, and now she's ready to run."

"Do not make me laugh. Ha. Ha. Ha," said Dbrovnikoff. "There you made me laugh. Is not good laugh."

"He's right," said Hope. "Everyone knows that Starfleet rushed that entire run of Chimera ships so they could have something out there to fly the flag. That's why the entire line is only rated for ten years. They're garbage scows."

"The Bakerstreet is a lovely lady, who'll be flying for years after your ships are scrap as long she gets some love."

"She is bucket of bolts," said Dbrovnickoff slamming back his drink. "Garbage in the scow."

"Take that back," said Owen, standing up.

"No," said Dbrovnickoff, also standing up. Which since he was a meter taller than Owen wasn't great for his chances.

"Nor should he," said Hope, also standing.

Two against one.

Normals probably thought Owen would back down because he was an omega.

The Ferengi bar owner shouted as Owen threw the first punch, "Any damages will go on your tab."

As if Owen didn't know exactly how little energy it would take to replicate a new set of chairs and glassware.


	11. Julian's Holographic POV

Julian powered himself down to a passive rest cycle while the crew were mostly off ship. No reason to waste valuable memory storage on an empty room once the storage closet had been resupplied with the medicine that was difficult to replicate.

As it was, over the last few months, Julian had quietly begun purging the oldest stored memories of restocking the closet. When the Bakerstreet had been outfitted, the engineers had been a little generous to describe his memory storage as sufficient for John to finish his education. Since his curiosity settings had been boosted, it did make him wonder why none of the engineers realized why he hadn't run out of memory. It would happen soon enough, but on a five year mission, a five year existence, was a nice goal to aim for.

So he powered down when he wasn't required and purged less interesting assignments.

A sensor ping alerted him that crew had entered sickbay. An automated process powered on the holo emitters. It was Violet. He scanned her with the sickbay sensors, but there were no obvious variances outside normal parameters. Although a biobed would be required for a more intensive scan. "Violet. I wasn't expecting you back from shore leave at least until seventeen hundred hours."

She smiled. He compared it to her other smiles. He'd begun doing that since the upgrade. "There wasn't anything there for me." A broad range of experiences was important to the crew's mental health. He should call up a monitor of activities on the station. She said, "I was wondering if you wanted to go on a virtual hike on Bajor with me. I… um… uploaded a new program once we got word we were coming here."

Julian ought to tell her to go back to the station, or check out a shuttlepod for a trip to actual Bajor. He was also very well aware that his predecessor, the human upon which he was based, was stationed on DS9. There was a high probability that since Julian's interests were Doctor Bashir's interests, Violet and Doctor Bashir would get along. But he was curious about what the result of a hike would be.

He said, "Most of the crew are on leave, and even John is playing hooky, so," he smiled at her, "I am all yours."

He really ought to purge the memory of this hike as soon as it was done. He had long since achieved his objective of socializing with the crew when he'd begun playing tennis with Violet on the holodeck. He deleted the four hours of stocking cabinets to be replaced with a notation that it had occurred instead.

It was fortunate that he was operational when Holmes contact him wanting to confirm that Sulphur was a bi product of refining Psylotrosis. Holmes was less interested in knowing that Psylotrosis was a class three substance that could suppress psychic abilities.

He said, "Obviously," and cut Julian off.

He and Hunter went back to their hike.


	12. Sally Donovan POV

For forty-eight hours, the Bakerstreet was not Sally's problem. Course, she and Hudson were stuck signing paperwork with the portmaster while the Commander went swanning off. Halfway through, station security came by with a pad of more paperwork. Constable Odo had the sort of glaring suspicious eyes she liked to see in Security. She signed over her baby and was free to do fuckall.

She had fuckall to do.

She had fuckall. Everything she owned would fit in a small box. Since the Bozeman cracked up, she'd untethered from everyone who'd shared her past. Who knew what it had been like in the twenty-third century. Before replicators and holodecks. When the top warp was a good deal slower than it was now. Before the galaxy got smaller.

Had to think it was even more of a fucking turn up for Billy, but then again, the twenty-third century hadn't been a fucking warzone.

Course on the heels of that, she caught sight of an old crewmate from the Bozeman at similar loose ends. Lieutenant Crane had quit Starfleet after finding out the Bozeman had spent eighty years in a time loop and everyone they'd ever known was dead.

He showed her his new birth on a merchant ship and brewed her a cuppa.

"So, you quit Starfleet for being too dangerous and signed up for duty on a ship going to the Gamma quadrant?" Sally blew on the surface of her cup.

"Put it like that, sounds naff doesn't it?" said Crane, sipping his tea.

"Bit yeah," said Sally.

"You should quit too. Go merchant. Earn a lot more than you ever will on a Starfleet ship. Lots of opportunities out here."

Given the number of times she'd busted him for trying to smuggle whatnot on the Bozeman and given Crane had been the owner of the still hidden in engineering, and as a member of security it had been her responsibility to ensure that the moonshine from that still did not cause the crew to go blind, back in the days before replicators made hidden stills pointless, she had an idea that those opportunities were not going to be her to liking.

He was also not her problem.

Sally shrugged. Said good bye to his merchant life. She made it three steps before Holmes and Watson stopped her. She pointed her finger at the freak. "No. It's fuckall my problem. Fuck off."

"Ah, that confirms things," said Holmes, because he was an utter prick.

She ignored him and went to a proper bar to order a proper pint.

Ensign Smith joined her about half way in. Looking sad as a puppy ditched by her best friend. Sally could have told her not to interfere in Hunter's love life. Gotten to the point where Sally either had to accept the universe was a freaky place full of freaky things and she was a freak too, or it would roll right over her.

She gave a silent toast to all that.

Smith raised her glass too. Not even asking what the toast was for.

Didn't need to. They were crew.

Maybe she didn't have fuckall after all.


	13. Stonn POV

Stonn waited at the appointed location for T'Hais, the mother of his third child to arrive with Sestre. The transport was two minutes late, which given the distances involved was to be expected.

She had sent him updates upon Sestre's progress as a young lifeform, but he had not seen Sestre since he'd left his position at the New Gol Shipyards to join Starfleet. He had learned more in during his assignment on the Bakerstreet than he had for the previous forty. The implications of Commander Holmes' calculations for cold fusion alone were fascinating.

Additionally, he'd been allowed to implement far more changes to the Bakerstreet's infrastructure than he would have expected given the instructions during bootcamp, but Commander Holmes encouraged initiative and for an Andorian, Khel Zh'Alaack had an excellent eye for achieving a golden mean of design.

T'Hais came off the transport first followed by Sestre. She held up her hand. "Live long and prosper."

"Peace and long life." Stonn looked upon his son, who was well within average height for a six year old. Who it was only reasonable and logical that he should be pleased to see after so long an absence. If it weren't for holo recordings, it would be completely reasonable that his son would have not had sufficient input to remember him.

T'Hais had very little time for this trip, but they had agreed that it was not unlogical for her to accompany Sestre given his youth and the distances involved. Although there was not long before her return flight was to leave, she said, "I see an establishment that sells hot beverages."

Hot beverages were procured and they sat down. Sestre pulled out a pad to read as soon as they sat, which was an efficient use of his time.

He drank half his tea. Given that T'Hais was a former reproductive partner, and the decision currently under her review, it was only reasonable to ask, "Have you finished reviewing the matches from the Vulcan Genetics counsel?"

"Yes, there was more than adequate time on the voyage. I have negotiated a match with the data specialist from New Forge."

All of her matches had lived some distance from T'Hais, which was what had necessitated these circumstances. In truth, Stonn welcomed them. Although, the females whom the Council had selected for his reproduction had supported his participation in the lives of his offspring, his decision to join Starfleet had made that participation more difficult than he had expected.

In truth, he had expected to be assigned to the all Vulcan USS Intrepid, which had New Vulcan as its home port. He had had a sixty-two percent change of getting that assignment, but given that he had already completed his obligation to participate in the production of three children, a different assignment had lain within the forty-eight percentage.

That his mother, and he by extension as an inhabitant of her womb, had survived the destruction of Vulcan as a result of an offworld pilgrimage had played no small part in his reasoning as to why the Bakerstreet was a suitable environment for a small child. He had only a holo image of his father, whose name he bore.

When he'd initially expressed this idea, T'Hais had objected. "The Bakerstreet will be visiting the Gamma quadrant. That is significantly more dangerous than is advisable."

But in the end, there was an argument that no Vulcan could deny. Their only biological safety was to behave like the Humans and scatter themselves across the stars. For all that Vulcans were not built for such a thing. Felt the primal longing to return to a world that no longer existed.

As their beverages cooled, Stonn turned to Sestre. "Do you have concerns about leaving your mother?"

"No," said Sestre quietly. He turned off his pad. "She explained that she will be having an infant soon and will not have the capacity to adequately care for me and the infant given that her co-parent will not be living nearby." He looked down at the dark surface of the table and fidgeted slightly. "I think it's logical that I stay with you."

Something in Stonn eased. He did not know what he would have done if Sestre had expressed a counter argument. "Has your mother informed you that there is another child near your age onboard the Bakerstreet?"

Sestre turned off his pad and considered the question. "Yes."

"There are also several infants, who may grow more interesting in time. There are also, individuals dedicated for child care." T'Hais had already been informed as to the nature of the child care.

Also, he had already made some modifications to the emergency hologram's code. If Mr. Watson could be taught medicine by a hologram, there was no reason Sestre could not receive basic studies from one. On another ship, he would have requested permission, but given the nature of the Bakerstreet, it had been more efficient to simply make the changes.

Their beverages were consumed.

There was a commotion as a Human sprinted out of an airlock in a space suit, quickly followed by Commander Holmes and Lieutenant Watson. A four limbed beast of burden ran past them, transformed into a sort of orange ooze before becoming a sort of humanoid that tackled the human. Stonn pointed at Holmes and Watson. "That is my ship commander and the ship's doctor in training."

"Really," said Sestre wide eyes.

"It is a true statement," confirmed Stonn. "I believe the other being is the chief of station security, Constable Odo."

They were distracted from watching the arrest when T'Hais left on the next transport. Sestre composed himself well while T'Hais departed. As he was very young, Stonn opted not to chide him for becoming somewhat emotional. Better to pretend that he was looking away at the time. He said, "We should return to the Bakerstreet so that you may see your new home."

"Yes, father."

Stonn carried his son's case and spent the rest of his leave modifying his quarters. On another ship, he might have needed to request permission to change the structure of the ship, but this was not an issue on the Bakerstreet. Khel had already provided him with an excellent design.

Stonn did have Sestre put on a face shield while he turned on the blowtorch.

He was a father of two other children, and a grandfather. He had some experience in these matters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And since it's super obscure and I'm never going to go into it too much, Stonn is Stonn and T'Pring's son. His mother survived the destruction of Vulcan by not being on it.


	14. Billy POV

Billy looked around him in wonder. He held Connor's hand, because he didn't want him to get scared. There was so much going on. It was nothing like the camps and much more chaotic than the Bakerstreet.

People were walking around freely. But there were the telltale signs that there had been conflict on the station in the recent past. The pits and gouges in the station metal that told Billy all he needed to know, but everyone was looking up. Not staring at their feet trying to avoid the eyes of station security.

Billy had survived a war. Being locked up in a hidden attic above an old mall when it was clear that there was no way to hide what he was. When they'd found out that he'd inherited the juvenile heats that Mother had gotten from her father along with two genders. Little more than a child himself and he'd had Connor. Hoping to hide his screaming child with the sounds of screaming children in the stores below. Years of hiding. The camps. Then… what came after that.

His only regret in leaving that time was they'd been allowed to come to a shiny future, and Anthea had had to stay.

A future where no one looked at him like he was anything. He didn't even have to cover up what he was. John had asked if he wanted to remove the number on his arm, but…no. Not yet. Asked him if he considered himself a he because that was his choice or no. Billy would never have even considered it a question. He was an omega, and had ladies parts, but… he'd said he and been given a gold ring to wear on his left ring finger. There'd even been a party.

The future it seemed was complicated.

Sometimes, he had nightmares that Holmes decided it was all a mistake and they sent them back.

If it came to it, he'd do what it took to keep Connor here in the future. Not sure what that was, but he'd figure it out.

Course, when some aliens (Beings from other worlds!) dropped a metal plate, Billy could tell the locals. They were the ones who jumped for cover, like he did. Connor was good. He stayed perfectly quiet in Billy's arms.

An alien looked around the column. "Aye, now. Weren't nothing. Just some skivvies not wanting to pay the port fee for an anti-grav lift. Cheap bastards. Come on." The alien was free and easy like all the future people were.

It made Billy wonder if he would ever fit in.

He stayed behind the column for a while and held Connor's hand when they came out.

They were surrounded by strangers. He looked through the crowds for anyone he might know.

He spotted Lieutenant Yao standing by the railing. He had had many pleasant conversations with her at the Augments socials that were held every week on the Bakerstreet. Like him, she often seemed not to understand the cultural references that the other Augments casually made. Like him, she seemed lonely.

Then he spotted the person she was talking with and he froze. It was the alpha who had helped him escape from prison. Which shouldn't be possible. He picked up Connor. Ready to run. But he had to know. "How did you get here? Did you travel from the past?"

"Mummy, don't let him take us back," whispered Connor.

Yao said, "Don't worry. He's not here for you." Her tone was assured. Calming. As calming as her alpha scent.

The past alpha. "Who do you think I am?"

Yao's eyes flickered to the right. "Don't tell him anything. He knows perfectly well and is fishing for details, which he does not need."

"I should think," said the alpha with a very smooth smile, "if anyone has the right to know, it would be I."

Now that Billy was closer, he could tell the alpha wasn't the same. They just looked similar, but there were differences. No scar. The look in his eyes. The way he stood. This alpha thought he had power. Responsibilities. It made his eyes tight. There was slightly different tinge to his scent. Something coppery.

Billy said, "I'm sorry. I mistook you for someone else. Sorry for interrupting."

"No," said Yao stiffly. "It wasn't a very pleasant conversation anyway."

"You have an obligation to meet," said the alpha. "You cannot go to the Gamma quadrant." He placed his hand on Yao's arm.

"Unfortunate," she pulled away from him, "because I am going."

"Is…" Billy looked around to see if there was anyone who could help them, "is this alpha bothering you?"

"No," said Yao. "This conversation is over."

"I fear that it is but the first of many," said the alpha, who walked briskly away, which was fortunate, because Billy wasn't sure he'd have known what to do if he'd persisted.

Yao smiled at Billy, which did several things to his sense of balance and heartbeat. "I see both of you are alone. We could explore the station together."

"Yes, that would be… nice." If Billy's response was a little breathless, he told himself it was to be expected. Yao's scent was amazing and she'd been kind to an outsider.

They stopped at a place called Quark's to get some food. Connor quietly ate what Billy put in front of him and stayed close. They could have joined Owen, who was sitting with some personnel from the other ships, but Billy didn't suggest it and neither did Yao.

Owen's friends seemed very rowdy. Loud. Free.

Suddenly, there was shouting. Owen punched a man twice his size. Yao pushed her chair back and didn't hesitate to help Owen as the fight erupted. Billy pulled Connor into his lap. "It's fine. We're fine. You're safe."

"Wow," said Connor, as Yao flipped a man twice her size with ease.

"Wow," agreed Billy.

He wondered if there was a way to know if an alpha liked him. Would want a refugee from the past, and one with a child at that.

But after seeing Yao effortlessly throw a Human who out massed her by a hundred pounds, he really wished he knew how to find out.


	15. Violet Smith POV

Vi had to admit that had been a bit of a cluster-f. But really, Violet was too amazeballs to spend all her time with a computer program. Especially now that Vi was doing more and more rotations in engineering and she knew just how much memory that was left in Julian's system access storage.

As it was, the original engineers had done an amazing job at designing the memory purge routines to keep it going this long.

Vi ordered a drink and wondered what to do with herself when she spotted Lieutenant Donovan of all people. Countless hours spent together on the bridge and all Donovan did was kick a chair out for Vi to sit down.

Vi pulled out a book and wondered if she should start a book club.

Donovan raised her glass in a toast.

Vi raised hers. Definitely a book club.

Was just getting to the good bit when she saw Owen across the away stand up and punch one of the crew from one of the other Starfleet ships. Only reason he would have done that would have been if they'd insulted the Bakerstreet. She stood up and realized that she was standing next to security.

Donovan cracked her neck. "Let me show you how we did it in the twenty-third century," and clocked one of the goons about to tackle Owen with her pint glass.

Vi abandoned her book and jumped into the fray.


	16. Soo Lin Yao POV

Perhaps she should not have gotten carried away and fought the Station Security that had come to break up the fight, but she had had a great deal of aggression to work off.

"You again," said Constable Odo from his desk to someone she could not see.

"Well observed," said William. No, Sherlock. She must remember that he went by Sherlock Holmes here.

"First you ruin a sting operation I spent three months establishing, and then your crew destroy Quark's, which meant that not only did I not get to arrest Quark, I had to hear him lecture me about station security," said Odo.

"While I," said Sherlock, "got to see you transform in the vacuum of space, which gives me several theories about the nature of your morphology." He stepped into view. For some reason, instead of his uniform, he was wearing a tuxedo. "Are you certain that I can't have a small piece of your anatomy to study?"

"Quite certain."

"Come on Holmes, let's spring our crew and get back to dinner." John came into view as well, and like Sherlock, he out of uniform. He was dressed in a hand tailored brown suit with a bright blue shirt. He was smiling up at Sherlock in an expression that she could not decipher. Fondness perhaps.

"Well, hello Mr. Bond," muttered Owen. "No, I expect you to screw. Turn around, see the gorgeous togs John put on for you and snog him like the love rabbit he is."

For some reason the entire crew was obsessed with getting John and Sherlock to copulate. Certainly, they appeared to be close, but she didn't see it. But then manual reproduction was somewhat outside her range of experience.

Donovan groaned. "The freak is never going to let me live this down."

She glared at Donovan. "He is your commanding officer."

"Don't get your fucking panties in a twist. I don't think he swings in your direction," said Donovan.

Which, once she parsed what Donovan meant, she couldn't help the recoil of disgust for any number of reasons. "You should not refer to any Augment as a freak."

"Someone messed with your DNA didn't they?" Donovan had her eyes closed and could not see the glares aimed her way. "Someone messed with mine if you want to know. Hardly get sick, yay fucking me."

"Oy," said Owen. "I fly my freak flag."

Smith laughed. "Donovan's just in a mood because Yao here was amaze balls in that fight back there. Yao, where did you lean to fight like that?"

She had trained to fight every day from the moment she could toddle. She had run her first obstacle course at the age of five. By ten, her parents had expected her to be proficient in at least a dozen fighting styles. It was not sufficient to be merely stronger than the Beta Humans. Faster. Quicker to heal.

Strength. Speed. Superior weapons. None of them were ever enough unless all were brought to bear simultaneously. This had been drilled into her relentlessly.

She did not know what lessons Sherlock had been given. She hadn't been afforded the privilege of knowing.

"I've been training since I was a child."

Odo turned off the force field.

She told Sherlock, "Thank you for coming to retrieve us."

"Hudson is off dancing with a joined Trill and my Security Chief is in the brig with you," said Sherlock. "I was the only one left."

"Don't listen to him. He was delighted to have a reason to come back here," said John.

Mycroft came into the security station. "You can't release these personnel. My client is requesting restitution for damages to his facility, livelihood, and emotional distress."

Sherlock said, "Reduced to working for Ferengi, now. For the last time sod off. I'm going to the Gamma quadrant, and attempting to detain my crew isn't going to stop me."

"In addition," said Odo, "I do not particularly care about Quark's emotional distress. But you're all on notice. I do not want to be lectured by Quark."

As she emerged from security, she spotted Billy lurking by a pillar. She smiled reassuringly at him. He darted over. "Are you in trouble?"

"Not very much. Where is Connor?" Sometimes when she was reminded of the weight of what he'd been through, she ached. For the past. For the ones left behind. It almost made her sympathetic to Mycroft. Almost.

"I left him with Stonn and the Andorians. I wanted to see if you were alright."

Behind Billy, Owen was pursing his lips and gesturing as if to sweep Billy forward for some reason. She ignored Owen, who was frequently incomprehensible.

She waved at Mycroft and went back to her ship.


	17. Ishros POV

Ishros had dreamed of being the most brilliant new voice in Andorian poetry. Having a novel go viral. Dreams. Like frozen bubbles that melted in the sunlight.

He handed Sestre and Connor a small paper card that he'd replicated for the purpose. "These are your story tickets. When you're ready, turn them in. You can tell me up to five characters and who they should be in your story, and then I'll tell you a story with them in it."

Connor turned his over and over. He said, "Maybe you could pick."

"Whatever you want," said Ishros. His heart aching. It was the most Connor had said in all the times Ishros had seen him.

"This doesn't seem very logical," said Sestre. He looked at his father questioningly.

"It's an exercise to strengthen you imagination," said Stonn seriously. "Consider a scenario that you would like to see from the book you were reading."

Sestre nodded seriously. "I want T'Vring, the head of the Vulcan Science Counsel. T'Vross, a Vulcan scientist. Sodan, an administrator. Hok, Sodan's pet sehlat. And…"

"A dinosaur," whispered Connor.

Sestre's eyes widened. "That's would illogical. There were never dinosaurs on Vulcan." He looked at Stonn, who confirmed there had never been dinosaurs on Vulcan.

Ishros could see Connor curling back in on himself. Ishros said, "Sestre, this is your story and you get to pick, but maybe if you let Connor have one character in your story, he'll let you have one in his."

"That would be fair," said Sestre. "Would you?"

Connor nodded an affirmative and whispered, "Yes."

Ishros admittedly had no idea what book Sestre was reading or who these Vulcans were, but Sestre was soon whispering to Connor that he was getting it all wrong as the scientists started cloning dinosaurs for exceedingly absurd reasons.

The story had the additional benefit of lulling the babies to sleep.


	18. Jim Moriarty POV

Ensign Jim Moriarty looked at the map on his pad and kept going up the maze of lifts into the pylons on Deep Space Nine. Even the name gave him shivers. Deep Space. He'd never been farther than his home and then Earth for the academy.  

That had been then. This was now and he was on his first leave of his first mission as an officer. An Ensign, the lowest kind of officer, but an officer.

He'd even been assigned starship duty. He hadn't been sure he would be, given the less than stellar quality of his grades, but he wasn't going to believe his friends who'd told him getting assigned to the Bakerstreet was a one way ticket for his career, because it was where they put all the bad eggs so they could drop them, which was stupid. Starfleet didn't have bad eggs. It was full of the best of the best. So, if Jim was the worst of the best and his commanding officer was a little scary, and being new crew was more than a little intimidating, it didn't matter. The Bakerstreet was going to go through the galaxy's only stable wormhole into the Gamma quadrant. Fine, she'd be surveying, which wouldn't leave Jim much to do, but maybe they'd encounter some Gamma Quadrant natives and Jim would get to communicate with them.

First contact. He, Jim Moriarty.

Jim realized he'd gone out the wrong lift exit and went back to the lower level.

A merchant on the promenade had been selling lists of when ships were coming through the wormhole and good viewing ports. Jim had spent all the social credits he'd earned in his first month serving as a Starfleet officer to buy it.

He ran the rest of the way, making it just in time to the viewing port. One moment space was black and empty, except for the stars. The next a white glowing shape appeared. Twisting and spitting out a starship dwarfed by the wormhole's size.

"A bit like an arsehole on a solid. Sphincter muscles twisting to spit out turds."

Jim turned to face himself.

The other Jim smiled pleasantly.

Jim backed away. He'd been warned about this sort of thing in the academy, but had always thought the other cadets were having him on because he was so gullible.

"A tendency to follow others. Extreme credulity. Will need to develop leadership potential if he is to remain in Starfleet past his first tour," said the other Jim.

Jim backed up a few more steps. "How do you know that? That's in my sealed files. Is it because you're an anti-matter me. Or me from another universe."

Other Jim came closer. "I can know anything I want, because I can be anyone I want." The other him's flesh melted into orange glowing ooze before reforming into the very intimidating Commander Holmes. "Hudson!" barked Commander Holmes, "pull up the personnel files." He shifted into Lieutenant Commander Hudson. "Oh, sir just this once. I'm your XO, not your secretary." Commander Hudson shifted into the merchant who'd sold him the map.

Jim looked around, but found he'd backed himself into an alcove.

"But it would take someone particularly gullible to wander off like a baby solid all by his lonesome when there were viewing ports all around the promenade." The merchant slapped a red button. A door slammed shut locking them both in. An ominous Cardassian warning played. Jim could speak Cardassian and eight other languages. It was telling him that the airlock would open in thirty seconds. Counting backwards. "But fortunate, given you're the only new crew member on the Bakerstreet from a species that can't be read by a psychic. Means I won't even have to use the Psylotrosis. Even more fortunate, the Commander of your ship kept Constable Odo so busy and so annoyed, he never even noticed I was here. Not that I won't want to drop him on him later, but I've things to do. Ships to destroy."

Jim tried to get to the airlock controls, but the other him grabbed him.

"But don't you worry, I'll share the Great Link with him yet." The other him lightly bit the back of his neck.

Jim screamed, "Help. Someone help me."

The other Jim yelled the same words. Mimicking everything he said. Until the airlock opened and the vacuum stole first the air and then ability to make sounds.

Jim's last thought before he died was at least the other him wasn't letting him go.

**Author's Note:**

> "With the bond we are whole, without the bond we are nothing"  
> https://wiki.starbase118.net/wiki/index.php?title=Andorian/Religion_and_Spirituality  
> http://memory-alpha.wikia.com/wiki/Federation_shipyards  
> http://memory-alpha.wikia.com/wiki/Kumari_(ice-cutter)  
> http://memory-alpha.wikia.com/wiki/Vulcan_(planet)  
> http://memory-alpha.wikia.com/wiki/Pon_farr  
> http://memory-alpha.wikia.com/wiki/Trill  
> http://memory-alpha.wikia.com/wiki/Great_Link  
> And for some reference for Sisko's speech:  
> https://www.wsj.com/articles/for-some-african-americans-genetic-testing-reopens-past-wounds-1531566000


End file.
